


the ink undried

by JenLi



Series: Selection OC 6 [3]
Category: Selection OC
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenLi/pseuds/JenLi
Summary: Side RPs
Series: Selection OC 6 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742209
Kudos: 2





	the ink undried

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm back on my bullshit.
> 
> Here is a side fic featuring the lovely Wylan Caldwell and Arin Schreave. She is 13k. I didn't edit. I'm sorry.
> 
> TW: Blood. Nothing graphic.

A few hours in, she snapped.

Not snapped in the way she yelled at another Selected for being ignorant Twos, though she’d been doing plenty of that in her head. The amount of Selected she’d interacted with was probably at a historic low at this point. Even Emily hadn’t popped in for a visit since that fateful morning, and she had definitely not expected that amount of self-control.

No, her snapping consisted of her scrolling to the top of Ian’s texts and reading through them all. It took a while, but she soon found herself at the first text she’d ever sent him.

_ Happy birthday!!!!! _

Right at midnight. She’d been 14.

From that point on, their messages were sparse as they were supposed to be. Sometimes it would be him not able to get a hold of her dad or asking what she wanted her birthday. It took a while to find the point where things changed.

For a while, their texting became constant. It was after she’d been accepted to Yale and was so ecstatic that she texted Ian every moment she could think of something new. After all, he was tenured at Yale. He would know everything about it. He offered to bring her for another visit, and she agreed.

There was a point where their texting faded, months between replies as things seemed to go back to normal once the excitement wore off. They still texted to wish happy birthdays or if he wanted to check up on her, but their relationship returned to something easy, the same it had been for her whole life. Close but not too close.

It wasn’t until she began law school that the texts changed for the worse.

_ Would you like to go to lunch? My treat. _

She’d said yes.

_ Will you be signing up for my class next semester? _

_ Is that allowed? _ she’d asked. 

He’d assured her it was.

_ Are you available to meet for office hours later? _

She’d gone.

The innocent texts didn’t vanish, but their meanings transformed into something different. Her stomach lurched as she scrolled through every  _ Can you help me with an assignment? _ knowing very well what it meant. How quickly things had changed between them then. How quickly things changed between them now.

She reached the end of their texts and turned off her phone immediately. The whole point in coming here was to not think about him, and that was exactly what she was doing. She’d spent so long idolizing him, though, poring through everything he’d written with a highlighter in the wee hours of the morning. It had been a long time since she’d opened one of his books, probably a few years even if they still had a place on her bookshelf back home.

She was out of her room before she even thought about it, headed in a direction she only vaguely knew. They’d shown the library during the tour, and even if it wasn’t out of the way, the palace was so massive that it was easy to lose her way. She found the right area after a few attempts, entering the library’s open doors and trying to ignore the other people that occupied the room.

“Room” probably was not the right word for the place, though, because it was much more than that. The library was two floors with a massive set of stairs leading up to the second. There were tables set up on the first where a few people she didn’t recognize sat with laptops while they worked, paying no regard to her whatsoever. Other than that occupation, it was empty, leaving her alone with shelves upon shelves of books, probably ones they didn’t have at Yale. Finally some peace.

It took a bit of searching to find the section dedicated to the castes, though it was larger than she would’ve thought for a palace who upheld the institution. There were a few familiar names on the spines of the books that stared back at her, some famous political theorists, some politicians, some academics. She wasn’t even sure  _ he  _ would be here among these greats, but right after the politician Vanessa Mondano’s greatest piece of bigoted rhetoric called  _ The Laws of Separation and Order _ lay all of his books in succession.

Getting them all at once would probably be too suspicious, so she picked up one she remembered loving the first time she’d read it at age 17 and traced her thumb over the lettering of his name at the bottom.  _ Systems of Necessary Authority & Power _ by Ian Mondeli. It would just be some light reading, maybe a bit of reminiscing. Nothing more than that.

While she was here and had all the time in the world on her hands, she wouldn’t mind picking up some more entertainment to keep herself occupied since she didn’t see herself going to the Women’s Room too often, and she’d been meaning to start  _ Harry Potter _ over again sometime, so she headed further into the library, hoping to feel her own way around again.

A few shelves further down, the squeezing of her shoes became unbearable. She could’ve chosen a different option, she supposed, but she’d picked the first pair laid out by the door instead. She slipped them off, carrying them by her side as she walked with bare feet, the marble floor cool on her feet. 

She turned a corner into a section about astrobiology that was nestled at the edge of the first floor near the wall. The lighting wasn’t great in this section, a bit dimmer than further in where the large windows were funneling in light, but it still wasn’t awful. It was in this part that she had to squint to make out the figure in one of the corners, sitting on the floor with a laptop in his lap. Upon closer inspection, he didn’t seem to notice her, but his name came to her as she crept closer.

“Hey, Wyatt.”

She had to stop herself from laughing when he nearly jumped out of his skin from her disturbance. Really, she should’ve just left him alone. It wasn’t like they knew each other, but he’d seemed already when they’d spoken last night. Talking to other Selected was exhausting in its own way, so she didn’t do it much. She would hate to get attached just to have someone eliminated the next day. It was easier for everyone this way, especially since she doubted no one here would exactly miss her anyway.

“Jenna,” Wylan said as he adjusted his laptop. He remembered their incorrect name exchange then. That was nice to know.

She raised and eyebrows, her gaze shifting to the laptop now pointed away from her eyes. “What… are you doing?”  _ In a dark corner of the astrobiology section of the library. _

His gaze shifted from her eyes down to her shoeless feet and then back up to meet her gaze. Obviously he wasn’t used to women in bare feet, but that was his problem. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Pretty sure I have a better reason to ask.” She took a few steps forward to close some of the distance between them. “Are you watching porn?” she asked with a low voice, more jokingly than not.

The look on his face could only be described as outraged as he pulled the laptop to his chest as if she was tainting it. “I am not watching  _ porn. _ ”

She shuffled her books from one arm to the other and hummed. “Guess I'll just have to assume it was porn if you refuse to tell me.”

His expression fell flat then as he sighed before turning the laptop around to reveal the screen. It was picturing a herd of elephants walking through a dusty field, a sight that she was all too familiar with. Those documentaries were the things she would watch as a kid back when her parents were together, shifting between her main entertainment and background noise as her parents fought in the next room over. She hadn’t watched it in many years, but she still remembered the desert and Jomo and the tragedies of life and death. “Are you watching  _ Elephant? _ ”

“You’ve seen it?”

She gave a small smile. “A few times. You mind if I…” She gestured to the ground. 

She almost expected him to send her away. After all, getting caught in a dimly-lit hallway with a Selected didn’t scream appropriate to her, but it wasn’t the worse thing they could do. “Oh,” he said as he glanced around the space before nodding. He was a little paranoid too then. “Um, sure.” He scooted over as she sunk to the ground, offering her the earbud that wasn’t in his ear and setting the laptop in a place where they both could see.

She’d just meant to talk, not to watch, but she wasn’t going to reject the gesture, so she accepted the earbud and put her books between them as she sat a respectable length away. “Thanks. This isn't, like, treason, right? I can watch a herd of elephants and have my dignity intact?”

“Not treason. At all. Really, really not.”

_Glad to see where we stand._ _Or sit._ “Good to know. You often watch animal documentaries alone in the library?”

“It’s quieter. Usually.” He pressed play.

She huffed a laugh and lowered her voice into a whisper. “Sorry.” Her eyes shifted back to the screen. “What have I missed so far?”

Wylan reached to his left before setting a bag of chips on his lap, eyes still trained on the screen. “They can’t find water. The baby is having a hard time.”

“Jomo no,” she whispered, glancing at the bag of chips. God, she was so hungry. She hadn’t been able to eat any lunch either, mostly because nothing seemed appealing. It didn’t help most of her diet consisted of chicken nuggets, Mountain Dew, and Pringles. “What kind?”

“Doritos.”

She set out her hand for the chips. “God, please. I need real food besides the shit they're feeding us during meals. Have you ever had a beetroot bowl? Because until today, I sure as hell have not.”

The corner of his mouth tilted up as he sat the bag of chips between them. “Odd, but healthy. There’ll be better meals.”

She took a handful of the Doritos and put one in her mouth, moaning a little as her head hit the back of a shelf. “Oh, God, who'd you have to bribe to get these? Tell me your dealer.”

“Well, that would be me. I buy my own snacks and keep them in my room.”

She ate another chip, her eyes trained on the screen. “And what’ll it take for you to share your stash?”

“If you put your shoes on, I might consider.”

She scoffed and tapped his shin with her bare foot. “Wow, what did lack of shoes ever do to you?”

He frowned at her, moving his leg away. “They’ve done plenty.”

“Like?”

“For one thing I don’t exactly like having bare feet touch my legs. Food for thought,” he said, giving her a pointed look as he crunched on another chip.

“Baby,” she mumbled.

He didn’t bother mumbling his reply. “Shoeless fiend.”

“Do you sleep with your shoes on or something?”

“No, but I don’t walk around the palace barefoot either.”

She rolled her eyes. A shoe snob, of course. He was entitled to his opinion, but she knew for a fact it was wrong. “Not the palace. I'm not a  _ heathen. _ ” She took another chip from the bag and popped it into her mouth. “Just the library.”

“I’ll save my judgment on your heathen-ness.”

He gave her bratty vibes, but she could tell he was mostly joking. Hopefully. “Lucky for me, you're not the one I have to impress.” A smirk. “Wyatt.”

“Arin is still my friend, you know.”

Using all his cards. Smart. Though, she doubted he would be much of a Selected reporter considering he really didn’t seem to like being bothered. “Interesting.”

“I can tell him of your... odd habits,” he added.

She burst out laughing but immediately began having a coughing fit from a chip she’d just eaten. Wylan only looked amused at her misery. She made a note of that. After composing herself, she rolled her eyes. “Right, about me not wearing shoes to bed.” The only time she would care what a man thought about what she wore to bed would be in the grave.

He was still smiling when he said, “About you being barefoot around the  _ palace. _ I think he’d be interested in knowing that.”

She hummed, eyebrows raised. Perhaps they were there to watch a movie, but this was getting so much more interesting. “So you think he would be unable to cope with a woman who occasionally doesn't wear shoes? That's an interesting testimony of his character you're giving.”

He shrugged a shoulder, ever the neutral party. “The preferences of Arin’s mind are unknown to me.” He looked down between them to where the book was set down, eyes squinted through his glasses as he tried to read the title.

She glanced down at the book, trying desperately to swallow the lump in her throat. “Oh, it's... something a friend wrote. I wanted to see if it was here, and…” She paused, shifting a little. She wanted to be a lawyer, but she was a terrible liar. “Yeah.”

“Can I take a look?

She was silent for a moment as she considered, but it would’ve been suspicious to say no, and surely it wasn’t a big deal, right? Unless Wylan was an asshole and reported her for being an abolitionist. She wouldn’t say it was a famous book, but it was at least well-known in academic circles.

She picked up the book and watched as his expression morphed into realization. So he did recognize it. “We studied this in one of my courses Senior Year. He had a lot of fair points.” He squinted again at the author’s name, and she steeled herself. “A Yale professor, right?”

“Yeah. He, uh…” She shifted again.  _ Damn it. _ “He taught one of my courses this semester and is a family friend of mine.”

He looked to her then, book still in hand. “Is he as good in person as he is in writing?

“He's…” She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth before continuing. “He's brilliant.”

He hummed and set the book back where it was next to them before glancing back to her. “Political science major then?”

She hummed, a small smile creeping onto her lips. Finally something she could talk about without her stomach threatening to eat itself. “I was. Just completed my first year of law school.”

“Congratulations. I interned with a human rights lawyer last year, incredible work.”

“Thanks.” She wasn’t used to people actually sounding impressed with her. Usually the Yale assholes were bragging about having received humanitarian awards or receiving job offers immediately after their first internships that sometimes she forgot that getting into Yale in the first place was a huge achievement in itself. “You said you're an intern, right?”

He nodded once, not looking to her. “Started after I graduated.”

“Do you like it?”

“Love it,” he said, a small smile on his lips as his eyes found hers. “Know which specialty you’re going in as a lawyer?”

_ Specialty. Cute. _ “Criminal law was the plan originally, but I started thinking about human rights recently, and…” She shrugged. There was a lot to think about now. Hopefully the Selection meant that she could have whatever she planned to do in the bag, but she needed to decide as quickly as possible over the summer so that she didn’t have to delay her graduation. Then again, depending on how long this whole thing went on, she may have to delay graduation either way unless the time spent at the palace would give her some credit. “I don't know.”

“Well. You have plenty of time.” He peeked in the bag of chips and gestured toward it. “You can have the last one.”

“Time,” she muttered as she took the chip, glancing at Wylan once before she ate it. A little bit of a brat, but he was nice, at least. “Thanks, Wyatt.

“What, don’t think you have enough of it?

She shrugged “Just feels like time's running out sometimes. I miss being a teenager.” Back when she was dating Landry, who was always so nice to her even when she was going through finals and getting into completely different schools, back when the most difficult things were the different paths each of them figured out.

“Adulthood not panning out as well as you hoped?”

“It's not  _ not _ panning out. I just wish I could go back and change things sometimes.” 

“Like what?”

She pressed her lips together and shrugged, staring forward into the shelves. Like getting involved with her law professor. “Just things. What, you've never wanted the same?

For a moment, something passed over his face, almost too quick to notice if she hadn’t been paying attention, before a smile replaced it.  _ Hiding something. _ It wasn’t her business, and she didn’t really care, but if there was anything she liked, it was knowing secrets. “Not once. College was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Never met that one person you wish you'd forget?”

“Well, now that’s a different question.” He glanced at her.

“Is it?”

“Yes. Very much so.” He picked up the empty bag and folded it in half before tucking it under his leg.  _ Weirdo. _

She stared at his movements with mild amusement before going back to their conversation.“Interesting.”

“You know,” he said as he crossed an ankle over the other, focusing on the screen, “we’re missing the entire movie.”

She narrowed her eyes for a moment but ultimately gave up and turned back toward the screen. “You're right. Has Gaia died yet?” she asked.

His head whipped toward her. “She dies?”

_ Oh. _ She hadn’t realized it was his first time watching. This was… unfortunate. “No.”

He groaned as he brought his hands to his face. “Thank you for ruining it.”

_ Like I ruin everything else. _ “I'm good at doing that.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was becoming too hard to manage in front of another person. “Sorry,” she whispered, hoping it would appease him.

“I... I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean it.” He sounded remorseful, like he actually cared. That was a nice thought, but she knew it was false. He seemed like a nice guy, but he wouldn’t be if he knew the type of person she was.

She blinked a couple of times before giving a tentative smile. It was a nice reminder, at least, to stop getting so close to people. If this got out, it would be over for her. “It's okay,” she said, grabbing her book and taking the earbud out of her to offer him back. “I should get going.”

He accepted it but simply let it fall once she was stood up. “Going to find your shoes? He offered a small smile.

“You act like I lost them.” She walked backward for a few steps before she spoke again, returning his smile. “See you around, Wyatt.”

He gave her a lazy, two-fingered salute as she went, leaving her with a “Watch out for rocks, Jenna” before she disappeared around the corner.

_ Too close, _ she reminded herself as fled the library.

*

Two weeks later found herself under the covers at 2am with  _ his _ book in her lap, this time the fifth one he’d gotten published.  _ Illéa’s Dirty Laundry _ was the title, and it was definitely less academically acclaimed than most, discussing the political corruption he’d experienced while working with politicians in Waverly, a province not unfamiliar with scandal. She would credit Manhattan for that. 

It was easy to be drawn into the words, try and remember his voice and think about him reading it to her, but the more it happened, the worse it felt. This whole experience was meant to be a way for her to get her mind off things, but everything always seemed to lead back to him.

It was hard for someone to just forget about their idol, especially when their relationship was as messy as it was. 23 years of history, a decade as her idol, four months as something more than that. Four months that fucked up every aspect of their lives. Four months most parts of her regretted except for one minuscule piece that missed him. The touch of his hands, his voice whispering into her ear, the way he promised everything to her yet nothing at all. 

She knew realistically nothing would work out the way she wanted it to. Hell, she even knew this was probably one of the better ways for things to end up considering the only people in their lives to hate them was each other. At least she wasn’t pregnant and alone because he made a selfish decision that cursed her and a child to a life of poverty just to win at some stupid game she wasn’t aware they were playing. Though, she couldn’t really tell for certain yet. Plan B was only 95% effective, so that meant somewhere out there was that 5% in limbo.

There was no way to tell now, though. She couldn’t exactly ask her maids for a pregnancy test, especially when everyone was well-aware of the fact that the prince hadn’t really visited anyone since the day of the interviews two weeks ago. She didn’t spend much time in the Women’s Room but still knew that some girls were getting restless. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t appreciated, but then again, she would stay for as long as she needed to. If it meant not seeing him at all but being able to stay, then she could live with that. She wasn’t here for him anyway.

She looked back down at the book, but none of the words seemed to make sense anymore, so she closed it and set it on the nightstand for the next day. It may have been 2am, but she was definitely not going to be able to sleep. The sleeping pills had worked decently the first night, but they always left her feeling so groggy in the morning that she couldn’t even recognize herself, so she opted that constantly being tired was the better end of the bargain.

She wished she could do something aside from lie around in her room until her mind became so tired of itself that it gave her the mercy of sleeping, even if it was just playing music to fill the silence, but she couldn’t risk waking any of her neighbors. She was standing before she really thought about it and walking toward the door before she could stop herself. At least she remembered slippers— _ Thank you very much, Wylan _ —before heading out the door.

There was no direction in particular she was headed, just needing to move. These tended to be her most active hours during the school year anyway, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to pull an all-nighter and wake up for her 8am exam, but that was only on occasion whereas she’s been doing this for two weeks now. It was only a matter of time before she cracked, but she was managing for now.

The hallways were obviously fairly empty at this hour. It wasn’t until she was on the first floor that she saw the occasional guard or maid in the dimmed light. Even with their presence, it didn’t make her feel less isolated, but at least less anxious if nothing else. She knew what was down here for the most part, but none of it seemed appealing for a late-night rendezvous. She’d heard of things on the floor underground but hadn’t yet explored that part yet. Perhaps that would be an interesting endeavor for the night.

Except on her way, she skid to a stop to avoid hitting a body that appeared in her path. An “Oh, shit” fell from her lips before she could stop it, and she looked up, expecting to see a guard and most definitely not the actual prince.  _ God help her. _ “I mean, my apologies.” She gave a curtsy, but she doubted it looked grateful considering she was only wearing a tank top and shorts she’d forced her maids to make her because there was no way she could sleep in fucking nightgowns. “Your Highness,” she added at the last minute. She wasn’t sure why she was being so uptight, but it wasn’t like they’d met in any capacity that mattered yet.

He didn’t seem to be any better than she was. At least, not seeming to be expecting guests to intrude on his peaceful night. He wasn’t even dressed like she’d ever seen him, only in jeans, a pullover, and socks. Almost like this was his open. As if anyone could view this place as a home. “Oh, um… Lady…”

She pressed her lips together in mild amusement. He didn’t remember her name. To his credit, there were a lot of people to remember, but something about it struck her as funny. “Jen Li, and no, it’s not short for Jennifer.”

He gave her a nod. Too stiff. Definitely uncomfortable. “Um. Right. Jen.” He glanced down the hallway, and she had to resist rolling her eyes. What was it with guys in the palace checking their surroundings? It wasn’t like it was terribly inappropriate for the prince to be alone with one of the girls he was supposed to be dating. “Isn’t it a bit late?”

“Up until I came here, I was a student. Trust me when I say I don't sleep much.” She glanced again at what he was wearing and raised an eyebrow. “You, however, are another question.”

“Well, I live here.”

“Really, I had no idea?” She crossed her arms over her chest to check that she, indeed, hadn’t yet taken off her bra and peered around the corner where Arin had come from. “Though I think your room is the other way. Not that I would know, though.”

“No,” he said as he followed her gaze, “it’s not.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “So, are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”

“Is that a question or a command?” His answer was important. To, at least, if not anyone else.

He breathed out a breath. “It was a question.” Good. That was what she expected him to say, but one never knew.

She cracked a smile before composing herself. “I’m not up to anything. Just…” She gave a small shrug. “Can’t sleep.”

He gave her a nod. “Well, then that makes two of us.” That was interesting. She expected the prince to have a whole regimen of pills to deal with it all. “Though I can’t say I recommend walking around in the dark in unfamiliar places.”

“That’s only supposed to be a warning for dangerous places.” She raised an eyebrow to challenge him. “Are you saying I could be in danger?”

“No.” His eyes shifted to the space between them, and he took a step back, as if realizing how close they were. It wasn’t like an incriminating closeness, but maybe a little closer than for a respectable chat. At least this way she didn’t have to look up so far to talk to him. Screw tall men. “But you could get lost.”

She huffed a single small laugh. “I'm not a child, Your Highness. I'm sure I could figure it out. Besides, I've done my fair share of exploring. The parts I could, at least. There hasn't been much else to do while you've been... preoccupied.”

“Preoccupied?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows at her. Of course, he would take offense to  _ that. _ “With my job you mean? The one thing I was born to do?”

“Never said it was a bad thing. I don't mind waiting.” She bit her lip and glanced behind her to the direction he was headed in. She may not have been going anywhere in particular, but maybe he was. “So where were you headed?”

“Nowhere.” He shrugged. “Where were you headed? Before you decided to have a late-night collision with me.”

_ Late-night collision. The nerve. _ “First of all,” she said as she held up her index finger, “not a collision. Second of all.” She held up her second finger. “Nowhere. Just needed to be somewhere else.”

“Fine, not a collision.” He looked around again. Was this against some kind of rule? They’d mentioned going to the third floor wasn’t allowed, but the contract never said anything about late-night run-ins with the prince on the first. “You don’t like your room?” he asked then.

“I don’t not like it, exactly.” It was objectively nicer than any place she’d ever lived, but something about it left her unsettled. The idea that she could literally be thrown out at any moment took away any sense of security in her brain. There was no way she could get comfortable that way. “It should probably feel more familiar to me by now, but I don't know. I just get restless when I'm anxious.”

“What are you anxious about?” he asked before taking a step and gesturing for her to follow. She did so, despite knowing nothing about him. Following princes into strange, dark hallways was always definitely a good decision.

“It's just been a change. I've talked to more people in the past two weeks than I have this entire year.” And even that number was very, very low.

“Trust me, it’s been a change for me too. Especially with all the talking.”

That made her want to roll her eyes, even if it was a legitimate struggle most people had. “You’re a prince. Surely you know how to converse.” Weren’t they trained for this kind of thing the moment they could talk? Couldn’t embarrass his mothers on live TV, could he?

“You try and talk to 35 people who are all around for the sole purpose of finding a spouse and get back to me on ‘knowing how to converse.’”  _ Touchy. _

“I totally would do that, but I feel like there's a rule against that somewhere in the document they read to me before I came, unfortunately.”

He rolled his eyes as he led them further down the hall. “Oh, that thing. I’m sorry about it.”

_ I find that hard to believe. _ “I can't say it's unreasonable. You do need some rules to this whole thing.”

He gave her a nod. They were nearing a room with a few lights on, the entrance of the kitchen upon further inspection, and she found herself immediately grateful. Her food consumption had gotten better, but it was still at a point where she had to force herself. Perhaps this was a sign she needed to get a more mature palette, but even then, she didn’t think she was ready. “You're right. Every single rule in there is necessary. In fact, I pushed for more rules regarding conduct.”

“Conduct?” There had been plenty of rules about it already. “What kind of conduct?”

He went a few steps ahead to head into the kitchen. “Well, for starters, I tried to push for girls who didn't have big careers, but obviously I didn't get my way there.” That was for sure. She was all too aware of Ava Jones to miss her. “I also didn't want anyone over 20.”

She stopped in her tracks right outside of the entrance to the kitchen. Surely she hadn’t heard that correctly. “Why over 20?”

He gave a small shrug. “Too old for my taste.”

_ Oh no. _ Hell to the fucking no. No way the fucking prince of this Godforsaken country was into teenagers at the ripe age of 23.  _ Shoot me where I stand. _ “So you're nearing your mid-twenties and want to date teenage girls instead of women your own age? Is that what I'm hearing?”

She watched as he walked toward the pantry and took out a bag of Cheetos before turning to face her again. God, she was hungry. “You told me you expected me to not be myself.” He raised his eyebrows in amusement like he thought this shit was funny. “Or at least I think it was you. All your names and faces blur together if I'm being honest.” He opened the bag and reached in for a few pieces, which he shoved into his mouth.  _ Charming. _

She slowly crept into the kitchen, cautious because she wasn’t entirely sure. It sounded like he was, but at the same time, she didn’t trust him a single bit. He may have gotten a background check on them all, but she definitely did not get one of him. “Please tell me you're joking and not actually into teenagers because I'm still debating what I want to do about it.”

He paused his chewing for a second as he looked at her. “And I’m still debating whether or not I should tell you if I was serious or let you figure it out.”

She hummed as she narrowed her eyes to meet his gaze. “And what have I done for you to be testing me?”

“You signed up for this whole circus,” he said, waving the Cheeto bag in the air. “Why shouldn’t I test you? You’re testing me right back.”

She scoffed.  _ Nice test. _ “You think that's fucking funny ‘joking’ about shit like that? Because I have enough gross fucking men in my life, alright?”

“I never said it was funny or that I thought it was. I just thought it was interesting that you were very quick to believe me when you already said you thought everything was pretend.” He sat the Cheeto bag on the closest kitchen island and slid it across to her. She couldn’t even feign dissatisfaction. “I’m not accountable for the other men in your life but I try to be accountable for myself.”  _ What a male answer. _

She held the Cheeto bag tightly against her chest as she chews on as many she can fit in her mouth, grateful for actual food, even if it… wasn’t actual food. “Whatever,” she mumbled. “I didn't mean everything was pretend. I meant that your first meeting was probably not going to genuine since everyone tries to make themselves sound better. Sorry if I wasn't expecting you to remember something I said two weeks ago.”  _ When you couldn’t even remember my name. _

She shoved the bag of Cheetos back, and he picked it up much more calmly in contrast. “And now we’re past that. So what do you expect now?”

“It’s not like I know you.” Nobody did, at least not any of the Selected.  _ Especially _ since he’d been avoiding them for two weeks.

He nodded. “Well, it doesn’t seem like you want to get to know me either.”

She narrowed her eyes. It wasn’t like she’d had time to actually get to know him. That wasn’t what she was here for, but he was looking at her expectantly, so, fine, she would bite. On one condition. “Fine, first question for you: Do you have ice cream?”

She expected his answer to be a resounding “no,” not because they didn’t have ice cream but because he didn’t want to give it to her, but he simply set the Cheetos down and went to one of the freezers to pull out two tubs of ice cream. He set them on the counter, one looking like pecan and the other like chocolate. She took a few steps closer to reach for the chocolate tub, opening it without hesitation. “Thank God. I will very happily eat it straight, but I doubt the cooks will like that.”

He returned the other tub to the freezer wordlessly but stopped to grab a spoon, which he held out for her to take. “Go for it. Anything in that fridge is fair game.” He nodded over to the fridge he’d just returned from.

Even if she decided he was irritating, she would never pass up unlimited ice cream. After a sigh of relief she’d realized she’d given embarrassingly loud, she held up two fingers. “Alright, question two: Why are you even having a Selection?”

“Straight to the point I see.”

“I don’t like playing games. Figured you wouldn't either.” She shrugged as she took another bite. “Could be wrong, though.”

“I don’t,” he confirmed, frowning as he watched her. “But I’m very out of practice when it comes to spilling everything to people who... I don’t know well?” After he finished speaking, he disappeared to a cabinet before pulling out a bottle of scotch along with two glasses.

That was interesting. She spent enough time with her college boyfriend to know a man having to drink to express any kind of emotion wasn’t a good thing, but she supposed these were two different situations at hand. “Ice cream and scotch. Haven't done that since undergrad.”

“I-I do it more than I’d like to admit.” That was something. A confession, probably one he didn’t mean to make. A drinking problem, maybe. Issues dealing with himself, definitely. He poured a bit of scotch into each of the glasses before sliding a glass toward her.

She didn’t wince at the flavor when it hit her tongue, but she wished she could. She had plenty of experience with alcohol experimentation, but scotch polled low on her list of favorite drinks. To wash it out, she took another bite of ice cream. “Not too bad,” she lied as she turned to him with another question in her eyes.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

She huffed a laugh as he picked up his own glass to take a sip. “Alright, it seems you need a warmup.” She paused for a moment. There were a lot of questions to ask, but most of them were so invasive it would scare even the bystanders. “Do you like being prince?”

“I have nothing else to compare it to.” A weak man’s way of saying they hate it. “But yes and no.”

She hummed and took another drink, the taste just a bit better, but maybe that was the ice cream. “What don’t you like about it?”

He blew out a breath before bringing the glass of scotch to his lips again. “How many things am I allowed to list?”

“Five to start.”

He took another sip and brought his glass back down to the counter. “Get ready.” His gaze shifted to the counter, but it seemed far away somehow. “For starters, I can’t go anywhere in Illéa without photos being taken, the most normal things—like going to the grocery store—are newsworthy, I never know who actually likes me for me, my life has been planned out since I was no more than a little plus sign on a pregnancy test, I rarely get a say about anything.” He finished off his glass in one go. “And I can’t even have private moments that are private.”

She set her spoon down into the tub. There was a lot to chew on, but she chose the first one that came to mind. “Is this… not private?”

He stared at her a long moment before reading his eyebrows. “That’s what you got from that?”

He had a point. “It sucks being born into a life you never asked to be born into.” She pressed her lips together, eyes cast down into the tub. “I wish I could give you advice. I can't say I feel similar, but I know some who do.”

“None of us asked to be born at all.” He reached for the bottle of scotch but stopped himself. She made a note of that too. “What are your five things?”

She rose an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected him to ask it back. “My five things?”

“Five for five, though I actually gave you six.”

She hummed as she took another bite. The ice cream was beginning to get softer now, easier to melt in her mouth rather than chew. “Fine, what kind of five things?”

He paused to think for a moment, head bobbing as he did so. “Five reasons you like being you.”

“I  _ like _ being me? God.”  _ Fuck it. _ She took the glass of scotch and downed it in one go. If they were using some liquid courage to open up, she needed a lot of it. It didn’t occur to her until afterward that the prince getting close to her personal business was the exact opposite thing she wanted. “I like living alone.” Alone with her Keurig, plants, and old books that were way past the statute of limitations on their late fees. “Doing what I love at school.” Poring over cases for hours and hours until her eyes were bleary and the same songs kept repeating. “And…” Up until two weeks ago, she would’ve said Ian too. Maybe not out loud, but he would have been there, free rent in the back of her mind. The way he held her some nights when he could get away, his thumb stroking her cupid’s bow as he looked down at her. The little notes on her essays that told her the things she wrote exceptionally well. The looks of appreciation he gave when she raised her hand in class when everyone else was too zoned out to care. “Honestly, there's not much else to me,” she finally managed, hoping he didn’t notice the breaking in her voice.

“You still owe me three,” he said. “But I’ll collect those later.”

“And you still owe me why you’re having a Selection.”

“Maybe I do.” He gave her a pointed look. “But supposedly I’m the one calling the shots.”

“You are.” She hummed. “For now.”

“You planning a coup?” 

He motioned to the bottle of scotch, a silent question of whether she wanted more. She considered for a moment before taking a step forward to grab the bottle and fill the glass. She took a few gulps way too quickly again before clearing her throat to speak. “No coups to speak of yet. Though I can't speak for the others. You should see their faces when the topic of you comes up. Sometimes I can't tell if they want to fuck or kill you.”

His face doesn’t betray his calm persona, which is a bit disappointing. Probably the alcohol getting to her already. Ian always told her she was a lightweight. “And which side are you on?”

She laughed as she drank another sip. She couldn’t say for sure about the fucking part, but she did know she probably didn’t want to kill him. “Mm, wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Maybe it’s better if I don’t.” He gave a grimace at his words. “No offense.”

“None taken,” she said. “Guess you’ll have to find out yourself.” She gave a smile before taking the last sip of her scotch. Her skin already felt a little fuzzy. Hopefully it would be enough to get her to sleep through the night.

He shook his head in what looked like amusement and reached for the bottle again.  _ Definitely a problem. _ “You and Felicity would get along well.” She blinked to see him freeze, as if he’d just realized what he’d said.

Here she was, just about to go to bed, and he came in saying she and his ex-fiancée would get along. With a sigh, she gestured for the bottle he was reaching for. Either this was mercy or she would dearly regret it in the morning. “You really are a trainwreck, aren’t you?”

He handed the bottle over without question. “If I’m a trainwreck then you’re one too. Scotch and ice cream only pair well with existential crises and self-loathing.”

The next laugh she gave was genuine, probably fueled a little by the alcohol, but it still felt nice when it bubbled up from her chest. She refilled the glass just a little bit before sliding the bottle back. “God, you have no fucking idea.” She raised her glass, gesturing for him to do the same. “To trainwrecks.”

He poured himself more scotch and followed her movements, but when he does so, there’s a frown on his face. “To trainwrecks. And sleep.”

“Amen to that.” She drank and sat her glass down before sighing through her nose. “We should probably sleep.”  _ Separately. _

He gave her a nod. “Yes, we should.” He began cleaning up after himself, returning the Cheetos and the scotch to their places before returning to the counter where she stood. “So that’s your weakness?” he asked, glancing down at her ice cream.

_ Weakness. _ She put the lid back on the ice cream and slid it over to him. “No, I just can’t remember the last time I ate a full meal, and it sounded really good at the moment.”

He rose an eyebrow as he grabbed the tub of ice cream to return it to the freezer. Kinda disgusting considering she’d eaten straight from it, but she supposed that was just the palace health guidelines. “I’d argue that a few glasses of scotch, some Cheetos, and ice cream don’t count as a full meal.”

“And I'd argue you should open up your mind beyond your rich, gourmet meals to other possibilities.” She reached and grabbed both of their glasses and her spoon before heading over to the sink to wash them.

“You can leave them in the sink,” he said, following her.

She huffed as she turned the water on. “You ever felt how annoying it is to wake up to dirty dishes in the sink after you washed them?” She hadn’t, but Ian had mentioned it a few times when commenting on her cleanliness. At least in her own place, that was her problem. Here, it was the problem of some poor Four or Six who just wanted to get through the day. She was them quickly, setting them in the drying rack.

He came with a towel and reached for the spoon she sat down. “I said leave them because I was planning on coming back to wash them.”

“Oh.”

He slipped the spoon back into the silverware drawer and the glasses back in their original place before turning to her. “I’d offer to walk you back to your room... but I don’t think you want that.”

“Who said I wouldn’t?” She shot him a grin as she headed toward the door. Right before she stepped out, she added, “Goodnight, Prince Arin.”

He didn’t follow but left her with a farewell. “Good night... Jen.” He remembered her name.

She left without another word, heading back to her room with a buzz in her head that hopefully meant she would finally be able to sleep through the night.

*

Days later, she woke up in a pool of blood.

Maybe a pool was an exaggeration, but reaching down to scratch her thigh and coming back with bloody fingers in the middle of the night was enough for a moment of panic to set in before she realized what it was. What it meant.

The moment she stumbled into the bathroom, she broke down into tears. 

He lost. He would never have a single claim on her now unless he was to confess to sleeping with his own student, and even then, he couldn’t prove anything. She was free from all of it now. No baby. No Ian. No mistakes.

It took everything for her to carry herself off the bathroom floor and clean herself up, but the tears didn’t stop flowing even as she did so. Weeks of overwhelming fear finally just… vanished. Vanished from her mind just like that. She sent a word of prayed thanks to God, even if she didn’t believe. She figured if he was real, then He deserved at least one thanks from her for this if not anything else.

Her sheets were soiled, but she couldn’t even think about replacing them herself yet as she changed clothes. Her brain was going a mile a minute, and she knew now there was no way she was going back to sleep. She’d fallen asleep reading, and for a while it seemed like the beginning of an actual restful night, but she wouldn’t complain, not over this.

Clean and happier than anyone should’ve been at 2 in the morning, she shoved on some slippers and slipped out of her room. Like always, there weren’t many out if any at all, but she figured there would always be staff lurking in the shadows. There was only one place in the palace she hadn’t fully explored yet, and that was the lowest level.

They’d told her the lowest level was dedicated mostly to the staff, their areas marked by many signs, and she would intrude on their personal space at 2am, so she stuck with the other wing. They hadn’t mentioned much about this floor except that it contained a lot of storage rooms, which she’d already seen with Idalia that one fateful evening. The only other thing she remembered from the tour was the movie theater. Technically, she wasn’t sure if using the movie theater at 2 in the morning was on the acceptable list of activities to pursue, but she figured no one would find out anyway. 

She only found her way due to several signs and peeked in first to make sure no one was there. Surprisingly, she noticed a movie playing on the screen— _ The Empire Strikes Back _ —but she couldn’t see anyone in the seats. It was totally possible she was intruding on something, but as she crept further into the room, she saw the obscenely long legs and body that accompanied them passed out in the chair. Wylan, the resident palace intern. Elephant documentary-watcher. Prince’s friend. The second dealer she’d met within a few days.

She pinched his arm, not enough to bruise but enough for it to hurt, and it did exactly what she wanted it to. She debated for a moment letting him sleep but ended up deciding not to. Wylan didn’t seem happy by the action, startling awake until he realized who she was. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he knocked his glasses that were perched on his nose into his lap. “Nice wake-up call.”

“My pleasure.” She set her elbow on the seat she was leaning over, a small grin on her face. Too happy for the hour. “What are you doing here so late?”

“Sleeping to a movie apparently.” He gestured to the screen, as if it were obvious, which, she supposed, it was. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m sure you could.” She walked around the aisle of seats to take the chair next to him. They were decently comfortable but still firm, not nearly nice enough to have a good night’s sleep on. “Couldn’t sleep,” she answered, leaving out the “Too excited I got my period so that I’m not pregnant” part.

“Funnily enough, I wasn’t having that problem until someone woke me up.”

She scoffed. “I did you a favor. No one wants to fall asleep in that position. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

His expression was one of a challenge, but Jen was never one to back down. “You’re very sure on the fact that  _ no one _ would when I was actually very comfortable.”

“For now, but you would regret it in the morning.” Her eyes shifted again to the screen. They’d just landed in Cloud City. Close to the end then. “You watch a lot of movies.”

His eyes also shifted to the screen. “They help keep my mind off things.” He moved his glasses from his lap, folding them up and setting them on the armrest.

She definitely understood that. Movies were one of the only things that were able to keep things off her mind. That’s what she should’ve been doing the last nearly three weeks instead of holing up in her room like a psychopath. “That’s fair. What kinds of things?”

“Work. Life. All of it combined,” he answered. It was vague, but she couldn’t say they were best friends, so she didn’t comment on it. “Are you not a serial movie watcher?”

“Actually, I love movies.” Once upon a time, she wanted to be a director for the first time after watching  _ Marie Antoinette, _ which, funnily enough, was also the catalyst for her research into the French Revolution where she subsequently decided that she would, indeed, be eating the rich. “After I started college, I didn't have time, and now... Well, I have other things on my mind.”

He didn’t ask her what other things, only reached next to him to grab a bowl of popcorn and set it between them. She decided then that she would make him her friend. “Favorite movie?” he asked as she dug into the popcorn, not willing to be embarrassed. The palace food had gotten a bit better, but she still wasn’t eating more than was necessary for the sustainability of life. That would have to be a work in progress, and she really needed to learn how to eat other things besides leftover chicken nuggets for breakfast. 

“ _ The Princess Bride. _ ” Hands-down would always be the best, and she was not willing to debate the fact. “You?”

Luckily, it didn’t seem she needed to because he gave her a smile. “That one’s high on my list. As for my favorite, I think you’ll make fun of me.” He sent her a cautious glance.

“Oh, please. You’re watching  _ Star Wars. _ How does it get worse?”

“They’re good movie.”

“That’s what all men say,” she muttered, even if it was a little unfair. They were good movies. Maybe not great ones, but she always had room for them in her heart. “What is it? Spill. I promise I'll only mildly judge.”

He didn’t acknowledge her mumble, simply saying, “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

It had been many years since she’d seen it, but she couldn’t recall it being terrible by any means. “A bit pretentious, but I was expecting something more along the lines of My Little Pony.”

“ _ What? _ ”

She gave him a small grin. “I don't know. You seem like the type to me.” She gave a shrug, leaning back into her seat. “Then again, I barely know you.”

He lifted his chin a bit, and she could already tell he was about to pry. “Fine. Tell me three facts about you and don’t think for too long.” He waved a hand haphazardly around. “And not like those ice breakers professors make you do at the start of classes. Something real.”

_ But what if you don’t really want the truth? _ “You mean you don't want to hear my GPA and favorite club?” She looked back at the screen. Han was being betrayed by Lando and was being turned over to the Empire. She was still bitter about it to this day. I took her a moment to realize what she was actually supposed to be thinking about. “My parents are divorced, I've kissed four boys in my life, and I got arrested two years ago.” She looked back to him, ignoring the screen once again. It would all be the same garbage she saw last time.

“First of all, I would like to know your GPA. Though I have a feeling it’s high.”  _ Slightly correct. _ “Second, I’d like to unpack that arrest first.”

Right. That was something very few people knew about in her life, yet it wasn’t nearly the worst story she had to share, even if they weren’t available to be. “3.8, unfortunately. And the arrest…” She smiled. “Haven't told this one in a long time. Disorderly conduct at a protest, but they dropped the charges.” Too many people too convict. They let her go because she was a Three. The lower castes didn’t get that lucky.

“Define ‘disorderly.’”

“Disorderly enough for a cop to pepper spray me and then put me in cuffs.”  _ Antagonizing police on the street, inciting chaos. _ She’d only been yelling what was true. They just didn’t take it well. “If you're curious for more, I'm sure they have my background check around the office.”

“Pepper spray?” Wylan scoffed. “I don’t need a background check to know you likely didn’t deserve that.”

She didn’t. She was 5’4” on a good day and never even threatened a word of violence. She hadn’t even had time to rinse the pepper spray from her eyes before they took her. It was one of the most painful nights of her life, but it taught her a few things. The first being, wear eye protection. “I didn't, but it was definitely an experience. I'd do it again.”

“I’d join you if I didn’t sign an obscene amount of contracts upon being hired.”

She gave him a little pout. She bet Angeles protests were even better than in Waverly. “Just wear a mask. It's a formative experience, I'm telling you.”

“Let me know of some upcoming protests and we’ll see.” A hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he grabbed another handful of popcorn. She smiled because he definitely didn’t realize how serious she was.

“If you can sneak me out, definitely.” His smile turned coy at the suggestion. She doubted the palace would take well to one of their Selected leaving to go to a protest with people who hated their government, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and if Wylan was in, then she had little to lose. “What about you? Three things.”

He contemplated on his answer for a moment, munching on popcorn with his eyes on the screen. Han was about to be frozen in carbonite. She recalled not feeling bad about it the first time she watched. “My parents thought I was a girl before I was born, I’ve kissed two girls in my life.” He held up two fingers. “And I failed an exam my sophomore year.”

She rose an eyebrow. She failed her fair share of exams during undergrad, but she also wasn’t working in the palace. “You? Failed an exam? How could they trust you to work in the palace?” Her tone shifted to one more serious. “What subject?”

He sighed as if the grade was a true slight on his academic record. “Libertarianism in History.”

“I take it you’re not a Libertarian then?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he teased. “I failed the exam.”

“Fair. What about the girls?”

“Ah,” he said, combing his fingers through his hair, not seeming too happy about the prospect of answering.  _ Interesting. _ “First kiss and my ex-girlfriend.”

“The first one. Was it good?” She took another handful of popcorn from the bowl.

“Could’ve been better. Was yours?”

“It was truth or dare in my best friend's basement. Needless to say, same for me.” She’d been 13 years old, still living in the German Federation. The rapid-fire German was easy back then, though she wasn’t sure if she was confident enough to try it again. She and Sara really needed to start speaking it when they talked shit. “And the last one?” she asked, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

He pressed his lips together into a thin line and shoved some popcorn into his mouth before answering. “Better.”

Vague again. He liked doing that, apparently. “Better hope your skills improved.”

He gave a short laugh. “Is that really relevant right now?”

Jen glanced at him. At a different point in her life, she would’ve admitted he was cute in a kind of summer romance kind of way—tall, tan, nice smile, nice legs. He seemed sweet in the kind of way that made you never want to leave but always did because you knew the feelings wouldn’t last forever. She had no interest now in repeating her mistakes with men, especially since she always seemed to like the ones she wasn’t supposed to have. “I'm just saying for your own sake. Two partners isn't that many.”

Wylan gave a stupid waggle of his eyebrows. “Maybe you only need to get good with one partner.”

That was an idea. A nice one. Maybe not a realistic one but a nice one. “Commitment. I respect that. How long were you with your girlfriend?” she asked before adding, “Or ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“Three years.” His answer sounded practiced, automatic, like he’d said it many times in his head.  _ Definitely not over it. _

“Oh. That’s a long time. What happened?”

A shrug.  _ Most definitely not over it. _ She would drop out of law school if she was wrong about that fact. “Weren’t right for each other.” It sounded so passive, especially considering how long they were together.

“Discovered that after three years together?” she asked, her words harsher than she meant them to sound. She supposed it was easy to look at years-long from an outside perspective and wonder after so long what they found that was too far wrong with the other, but her longest relationship had only lasted just over a year. She couldn’t say she exactly understood. “I'm sorry. That was... not cool. I don't have any room to…”

“It was more complicated than it sounds,” he said, his voice tense as he grabbed his glasses and began wiping the lens on his shirt. She doubted they needed it. “It’s not an easy topic.”

She quieted then, feeling it was better not to speak for the moment. In front of them, Leia told Han she loved him. A fitting example. “Relationships are like that. They can be messy.” She knew that all too well.

“And your four guys?” An attempt to move on. She allowed it. This time.

“My first kiss. My high school boyfriend. My college boyfriend. And…” She looked down at her three fingers she’d held up for each of them. The fourth one practically begged her to say his name, but she wouldn’t. “My last.”

“Do you have a ranking?” He didn’t sound serious, but he still looked interested. It was an interesting question, one she’d never really thought about but one that had an obvious answer.

She held up her fingers to count them off again. “Worst was the first one.” She didn’t quite remember his name, but it wasn’t a common one in Illéa. It had been just a peck, sweet but not nearly high enough to make the ranks. “Second was college.” Patrick always tasted like cheap beer, which was funny considering he belonged to one of the most elite families in Manhattan. She got out of that mess just in time. “Third was high school.” Landry had been her crush for years, never made fun of her as she got used to English again after moving back to Illéa. He’d been her longest one, clocking in at a year and two months before he headed to Waverly State and she to Yale. Sometimes she thought about him and whether he was in a better place than she was. “And the best was”—And she hated to say it, she really did—“my last.”

Her last. Her last who knew everything about her. Every tick, every mark, every secret she held in her chest, he knew it all. Maybe that was why it hurt so much. He should never have gone past the barriers of familial or professional relationship, and yet they’d broken every unspoken rule they were never even supposed to glance at.

“Not a boyfriend,” Wylan commented, and he was right. Ian was never a boyfriend. He was married, a father, a life-long friend of her father. Never a boyfriend. “Was it brief?”

Four months. The briefest of them all, and it was the one that made her sick every time she thought about him. “You could say that.” She took up the popcorn again only to have something to do with her hands.

“Leaving behind a trail of broken hearts?”

It was cheesy enough to roll her eyes, but the smile he gave was enough to silence any negative thoughts. He reminded her of a Golden Retriever. Maybe not in personality but in looks. You just couldn’t be sad seeing his face. “I wish. Now I’m here.” She waved a hand in a broad gesture of which she meant the palace. “Who knows how that’s gonna go?” Her two meetings with the prince weren’t exactly successful, but they weren’t exactly terrible either.

“Had your date already?”

She’d heard whispers that they were supposed to have happened by now, but she hadn’t paid much attention. She had no idea what they entailed, but she really wasn’t that interested, so staying in a palace rent-free and left to her own devices was probably one of the best vacations to have. Except for, of course, her occasional run-ins with people. Like the prince. “Not officially, no.”

His brow rose. She should’ve known that sounded suspicious. “What does that mean?”

“Ran into him once,” she said simply.

“You know, that sounds awfully like you hid his body in the gardens.”

She gave a small laugh, not telling him how close she’d been to it. “He’s still breathing.”

A chuckle slipped from his lips. “That doesn’t make what you said any better.”

She raised her hands in defense. “After what he said to me, he's damn lucky too.” She’d been very close to losing it, but she only liked to do that every so often. If he really was lucky, he wouldn’t push her to that point again because she was only able to hold it in so much.

The funny thing, though, was that Wylan didn’t even seem to be surprised, just a little… resigned if anything. “What did he say?”

She eyed him curiously before answering. “Said he would rather be dating teenagers.” Just saying it made her stomach churn. She grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved what she could in her mouth as something to choke on her rage. “I mean,” she answered with her mouth full, “it was a joke, but it wasn't funny.” She swallowed and turned to him. “I don't care if he's a prince. I won't hesitate to fuck him up if I have to.” She winced the moment she realized what she’d said. Not the best thing to say in the palace. “I probably shouldn't say that or I'll get arrested.”

There was a grimace on his face when he answered. “I won’t try to defend what he said, but Arin is…” He shook his head. “ I don’t know. It’s difficult for him, is all. I know that’s not an excuse.”

At least Wylan understood instead of brushing off her concern about it like he did. She knew there was a reason she didn’t mind his company. Finally a sane fucking person in this place. “Guys think it's funny, but when you know there are men out there who actually think like that, it pisses me off.” She gave him a glance. “Not to lump you in there or anything. You seem decent.” She’d thought about quite a few guys over the years, though, and each one usually disappointed in one way or another. “Then again, so do a lot of guys until they open their mouths.”

Wylan seemed surprised by her last statement, but he made no further comment, only making the motion of zipping his mouth shut. The action actually made her laugh. That usually wasn’t a guy’s first reaction. “No, tell me something. You work in the palace, so you've gotta have some problematic opinions. Make me like you less. Go.”

He glanced in the opposite direction of her as he laughed. “So you  _ do _ like me.”

_ Too much. Not enough. Take your pick. _ “Yeah, whatever. Answer me.”

A coy smirk. “I don’t have any problematic opinions.”

“Sure.” It was rare she met people she agreed with even a majority of the time. Her opinions tended to be a little more radical than average, but especially among men, the general consensus was skewed in the opposite direction. “Opinion on the castes.”

“Promotes privilege and exclusivity for a small few. Should be abolished.” She ignored the shift in her gut when the word “abolished” was uttered. Things were becoming a problem if she started getting turned on by politics. “Next.”

She hummed at his insistence. “The sex law no one follows but removes unmarried access to family planning.”  _ Keeps the castes intact. Makes things less confusing. _ She now knew firsthand that wasn’t true.

Wylan’s expression turned from his former amusement to a frown. “There’s no family planning in Waverly?”

“No?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion before she realized. Angeles hadn’t had such laws in a long time. She was just lucky enough to be a part of one of the only provinces that still had them in place, which the old, white men in power said had absolutely no effect on their atrociously high teen pregnancy rates. 

He looked concerned enough that she almost felt he could read some part of her mind, figure out something in particular that he didn’t have to know, but then he looked away and pressed his lips together. “There should be,” he said and left it at that.

“Yeah.” She shook herself out of her thoughts. Now was not the time. She could work on changing the system after she got over her own close call with it. “Opinion on Eights.”

Most people just gave a bullshit answer when asked about it. Something like “Sucks they’re in that situation” or “Got themselves there.” Wylan’s answer was short, but she could tell there was thought behind it, like he’d thought about it enough that only a few words were needed to express his opinion. “We don’t do enough for them. And we should.”

She settled further into her chair and gave him a perplexed look. “How the hell did you get a job here?”

He gave a small, subdued chuckle. “Why, too liberal?”

“Way, way too liberal.” The amount of attractive liberal she would have died to find during undergrad. Maybe that was why she went crawling to Ian. “It's okay. I'll find out one problematic opinion you have. You probably hate children or kick puppies in your free time or have a Twitter dedicated to Star Wars.”

His mouth parted a little in outrage. “I do not hate children, I’d never kick an animal, and I don’t even have a Twitter.”

She hummed in acknowledgment as she sat her elbow on the armrest of her seat. “Guess I'll have to keep on liking you then.” She glanced at him. “For now.”

“Mm, me liking you is up for debate.” He took another handful of popcorn, and she scoffed.

“Wow, rude. What did I do?”

“Nothing. For now,” he said, repeating her previous words.

“That implies I’m going to do something.” She turned to him. “What kind of person do you make me out to be?”

The way he squinted at her caught her off guard, like he actually  _ was _ trying to read her. “Full honest answer?” he asked after a moment.

She wasn’t expecting a full reading of her personality, but if he wanted to give it a shot, then she would let him have it. Chances were he didn’t get even close. No harm, no foul. “You better,” she said, squinting back.

He tilted his head then, eyes still on her, but she could see his aura shift from one of teasing to something else, something genuine. “You’re a strong person, that much is obvious to anyone.” Not too far off base, though she didn’t feel very strong these days. “But I think you’re softer than people might think. Which isn’t a bad thing. Not at all.”  _ Not at all. _ “Then again, I could be wrong.”

“You’re not,” she answered almost immediately, though she couldn’t say why. Because it was true? Maybe. She never considered herself a soft person, but she didn’t think she would mind being one either. “Soft me is hard to come by though.”

He gave her one of those smiles, one you wanted to remember just to never forget the feeling it sent to your chest, and said in the softest voice, “You seem to be doing fine right now.”

She opened her mouth to say something but immediately closed it when nothing came to mind. It was one of the few moments she genuinely had no idea what to say, so she kept silent until she was forced to break it. “I hope you don't say that to all the girls you meet in the movie theater.”

His eyes shifted from hers as he laughed. “You’re the only girl I’ve met in the movie theater.”

_ Consider myself lucky then. _ “That’s very reassuring.” She meant it to sound sarcastic, but she couldn’t say she succeeded because her voice wavered against her small smile as his eyes stayed on her.

“Is soft you satisfied?”

“‘Soft me?’” She wondered what would be considered soft her. She liked her hard exterior, less of a shell and more one of steel. Things were easier that way. It wasn’t necessarily something she tried to put on. It just mostly ended up like that. “Don’t tell me that was your goal.”

“No,” he said, chuckling. “Stronger you is just as important.”

Sometimes life was funny in the way it led you to people during the completely wrong time and place. She glanced up at him, smiling. “You're smart. Getting on my good side by feeding my liberal agenda.” She lowered her voice to mimic his tone. “then murmur words to validate my softness. I see what you're doing.”

He scoffed, eyes glancing away as if he was… flustered. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“Sure, Wyatt,” she said, normal voice returned. “Are you gonna let me do you now?”

“By all means.”

And she barely knew him, didn’t even recall his last name, but they’d talked about shit she hadn’t talked about to anyone, so even if it was stupid, there was some semblance of trust there. Maybe she was wrong to, but some part of her hoped he trusted her just a little bit too. “You're really smart. Not just college smart but like the thoughtful smart. A problem-solver, but you can't solve your own. You're also very emotional, which can sometimes be good or bad. You don't have a ton of friends, but you're a really good one to the ones you have.” She paused for a second, one more topic in mind, but she knew how desolate these conversations could turn. “And you're... still at least a little hung up on your ex.”

His smile didn’t last long as she spoke. When she finished, he ran his fingers over his brow. “I’m not hung up in the way you might think,” he admitted, voice quiet, if not a little resigned.

“That’s okay.” It wasn’t like he needed her validation, but she gave it to him anyway. “If I could ask… how long ago did you break up?”

He hesitated for a moment before answering. “A little over a year ago.”

“Not that long ago. It'll get better, even if it still sucks.” She said this for him and, admittedly, a little for herself too. She settled further into her seat, slouching down. “Relationships are a special kind of hell.”

He gave a short laugh, though she could also tell he didn’t find it funny. She couldn’t say she did either. “It was good until the end. But not all relationships are.”

“Good until the end,” she murmured. “That sounds about right.” She glanced at him. “You ever wonder what would've happened if you hadn't made that one mistake?”

_ In his office, he kisses her for the first time with her essay lying discarded in front of them, littered in the red ink of his pen. _

“I wonder about plenty of mistakes in that relationship,” he said, letting his head fall back against the chair.

_ “No one has to know, Jennie.” _

“My mistake was ever saying yes.”

There was a heartbeat of silence before she realized what she’d said, but she didn’t regret the words. For the first time, things suddenly became clear. It should never have happened, not in any reality, especially not this one.

Wylan’s eyes were on her, and she could practically see his gears turning. A part of her just wanted to say fuck it and tell him, but if her realization was true, then she shouldn’t burden him with it. Her suffering didn’t mean he had to cope with disgust too. “Is it over now?” he asked her, voice soft again as she closed her eyes, head leaned against the chair.

_ His fingers digging into her back, the anger in his eyes when he pulled, a silent warning in front of the cameras. _

“I really hope so.”

“Good. Because…” A pause. Darth Vader spoke into the silence. “Relationships don’t always have to be hell.”

The sweet peck of her first kiss. The way Landry always sat with her in coffee shops while she studied, even when he had better things to do. The way even Patrick held her in bed as she cried after getting rejected from yet another internship. None of them right, but none of them carving out a hollow space in her chest. None of them tearing her apart piece by piece. Except him. Four months aged her in the way it never should have. “Yeah. That's a nice thought.”

Wylan went quiet. Luke was Darth Vader’s son. Her eyes stayed close as she shifted her legs up into the chair. Not comfortable, could be worse. She wasn’t sure at what point she drifted off into the night, but she woke up to the sound of a voice, fabric pressed into her face. 

“Miss?” The voice wasn’t Wylan’s but of a maid’s, June. How had she found her? “It’s time for us to be getting dressed for breakfast.” She blinked through bleary eyes to see the screen shut off and rid of any trace of the man she’d spent her night with. Except for one thing in particular.

She looked down at the fabric she'd been clutching. The Angeles University hoodie he’d been wearing. Maybe her least favorite school, but she would live with the offering.

“Is everything alright, Lady Jen?”

She smiled as she put on the hoodie, multiple sizes too big, but it fit her in a way that made her immediately decide it would never be returned to the owner.


End file.
